


Wait For Me (I Can't Catch Up)

by CouldntBeGayer



Series: dnf on da brain [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: A bit of angst if you squint, ADHD Dream, AU I suppose, Anxious George, Dream has a lip ring bc yall like that in my last fic, Dream has a size kink, Dream is called Dream bc Clay is my name, Dream reads a fic and loses his mind, Falling In Love, I don't really know how Vidcon works, I just love my boys, M/M, Slow Burn, THEY GET TO SMOOCH, They are so soft and so nice, Who else is writing gay fanfic during a coup, author is kin with tubbo, fanfic within a fanfic, honestly you can't not see it, in irl and in this fic, in which toxic masculinity doesn't exist, they just need a nap and a warm cup of hot chocolate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28631949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CouldntBeGayer/pseuds/CouldntBeGayer
Summary: Dream knows all about the fanfic people write of him and George. It's not going to bring up some feelings he didn't know he had, right? Right?
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: dnf on da brain [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2166975
Comments: 41
Kudos: 207





	1. Dream on a plane, what will he do?

**Author's Note:**

> Heya!
> 
> THIS FIC IS ABOUT DREAM AND GEORGE'S ONLINE PERSONAS. I AM NOT SHIPPING REAL PEOPLE. THEIR DYNAMIC IS JUST V NICE. (IF EITHER OF THEM EVER SAY THEY ARE UMCOMFY WITH SHIPPING THIS WILL BE TAKEN DOWN BC I RESPECT THEM AS PEOPLE). ALSO, THE FIC IN THIS STORY IS 100% MADE UP BY ME. ANY FIC WITH THE SAME PLOT IS A COINCIDENCE.

“Sir? Would you like something to drink?” The flight attendant asks, fidgeting with the clipboard in her hands. Dream squints at her, pulling his head up from his backpack.

“Muh? Oh, just a Coke please.”

She nods curtly and continues along the isle. Dream winces, rubbing the zipper mark on his cheek. He was on his way to Vidcon and desperately trying to make the flight a less painful process. He didn’t have a travel pillow, so he was trying to nap on his bag but, of course, said bag was full of toiletries so it was awfully lumpy. Also, he just fucking hates planes in general. There were too many people in too little of a space, his legs were cramped. At least he had the aisle, so he could get up to walk around without having to disturb someone else.

He had to get up a lot, to walk and try to breathe the stale circulated air. It was too thick, got caught in his throat and trapped in his lungs. It made his head hurt. His body didn’t like feeling trapped, and his ADHD didn’t like feeling bored, so it was a lose/lose in every way. The flight being a redeye just amplified everything tenfold as well.

Scrubbing his palms over his eyes, he shifts irritably and restores his bag under the seat in front of him. Dream adjusts his earbuds and opens his phone. _Free wifi, at least_. DreamTeam Twitter was freaking out, everyone wishing him safe travels and a good flight. He types out a Tweet. _I fucking hate planes_. 

Dream takes a photo of himself, eyes bleary and hair knotted, and sends it to the group chat with George and Sapnap. It takes forever to actually go through and when it does he doesn’t expect a response. It is midnight and his friends are probably hella jetlagged.

He’s bored. He’s so fucking bored. He’s so bored he’s either going to zone out and forget he exists or scream. At least Instagram is hyped, people churning out professional level fanarts faster then anyone can keep track of. Sad-Ist made a joke animation of the team meeting for Vidcon, in it they run at each other from across the airport, arms out like they’re going to hug, but then they collide and collapse into a pile on the floor. Red comic sans splays out across the still frame reading ‘Vidcon 2021.’ Dream thinks it’s hilarious and likes it.

The next thing that catches his eye is a basic sketch of Dream and George sitting together in a tree, Art-Dream's knees have band-aids on them and Art-George’s glasses are held together with tape. They look about 12 in the art. He’s not exactly sure why this caught his eye, it's definitely not as impressive as some of the other works, it's just black and white, the guidelines are still there. It’s obvious the artist is talented though, the lines are thick and sure and their proportions seem correct.

Dream clicks it and it expands to fill his phone screen. He leans forward a bit and takes in their expressions. Art-Dreams head is tilted a bit back and to the side, his eyes are squinted in a laugh. George’s face is towards him, a shy smile on his face like he’s the one that made his friend laugh. Something about the sketch worms it’s way into Dream’s chest and plays the harp on his heartstrings. A little hook, a little stab of pain that pulls up full bodied want up from where Dream tries to ignore it.

He doesn’t even know exactly what he wants. Is it as simple as being outside? Away from this stuffy plane with its suffy people. Could it be childhood? That doesn’t make sense though, his childhood didn’t have much to offer. Depression and anxiety, combined with shitty parents in an even shittier town buried any naivety alive. 

Maybe it’s George. Maybe it’s the gentle companionship that's radiating from the drawing. Dream was never able to get that from the people around him. He was too loud, too brash. Bad at reading people and worse at filtering himself. And the people in his hometown where harsh, burned and bashed, made to grow calluses and spines. He learned not to get too close.

The internet made it easy. It was easy to filter his words on Discord. Being able to read over the texts and respond after considering how the other person would react is easy. Dream wishes he could do everything over text, he’s such a better person when he’s not using his voice.

Dream swallows and turns off his phone, laying it face down in his lap. _That’s enough_. He shifts in his seat again, trying to find a position where his legs don’t cramp after five minutes. Quickly giving up on that endeavor, he crosses his legs and opens the paperback he’s brought with him.

He’s rereading Ready Player One in preparation for the sequel. Don’t judge him, dystopian sci-fi ya novels are his weakness. Dream really does like reading, when his ADHD lets him. But currently? The letters squirm around the page and he keeps skipping over big chunks of text. He squints and tries again, angry at himself.

Nothing works to help him out. Not squinting, rubbing at his eyes, moving the book closer, hell, even turning it upside down. The woman next to him clears her throat, looking annoyed and Dream puts the book away and then picks up his phone even after he promised himself he wouldn’t.

The fanart mocks him from the screen and he closes it quickly. The caption draws his attention though. _Just a little ditty I did for my fic, TreeTops! :)) The link is here - >_

 _No,_ Dream tells himself absolutely not, you saw what that picture did to you, dumbass, reading a fic about it would be an even stupider decision.

The inflight wifi takes a while to load the Ao3 page. The first chapter of the fic shows up and Dream scans over the tags. He’s used Ao3 before, he knows how it works. It's Dreamnotfound, with background Karlnap apparently. Slow burn, with a side of mutual pining. Nothing too wild. Dream just hopes the grammar is good.

It starts with both Dream and George as nine year olds, they’re neighbors and go to school together. George falls on his face and breaks his glasses playing volleyball in gym and Dream takes him to the nurse's office. That’s how they become friends. It takes Dream a while to get through it, but somehow it's remarkably easier to read than the physical book. At the bottom of the chapter, he hits the kudos button without stopping to think about it. Ah well, it's not like he has an account.

Dream’s able to keep himself from reading the next chapter but he doesn’t close the tab, opening a new one on top of it. He tells himself it’s so he can poke light fun at it with George and Sap when he lands. He tells himself he’s not lying.

There’s three hours left in his flight, he doesn’t think he’ll make it.

<<<->>>

The lights in the terminal are harsh and sting Dreams eyes as he waits for his suitcase. George is sat on the floor on his side, leaning against Dream’s legs and playing on his phone. 

“Ugh, Dream, why’s it taking so long?” George mumbles, thunking his head against the other man's knee.

“Sorry, SouthWest is just really slow with luggage. Though we’ve only been here for ten minutes I think.”

He groans, putting down his phone and turning around to press his cheek into Dreams thigh. Dream snorts and shakes his leg gently.

“Thanks for coming to pick me up by the way. It was really nice of you.”

“I couldn’t let you get murdered in a taxi, could I? Would have ruined the entire Vidcon for everyone.” George’s reply comes muffled from the fabric of Dreams sweatpants. He’s a clingy son-of-a-bitch in person, and even more so when he’s sleepy. Dream kinda likes it, likes being hung off of by this 5’8 abomination. 

“Just Vidcon? Jeez, I would have thought my death warranted at _least_ a year of mourning from everyone.” 

George huffs. “Nah, I’d put on a sad face for this week and then be back to normal. Easy.”

“Aww, Georgie, you wouldn’t do that to me!” Dream gasps and clutches his chest, “I woulda thought you would put on one of those old black mourning dresses with the veils that women used to wear when their husbands died!”

“Yeah, well, uh” George stands up and brushes off his pants. “Is that your suitcase?”

Slightly caught off guard by the abrupt change of topic, it takes Dream a second to find where George is pointing. It is his suitcase so he snatches it off the belt and pulls up the handle.

“You ready ta-” Dream yawns, “To go?”

“Yeah, god, I can’t believe I got up at two am to get your sorry ass.” George complains. His tone does not match up with how he shuffles over to Dream and grabs his sleeve, smushing up against his side. He’s slightly startled at how close he is all of the sudden, and Dream feels his face heat.

George leads them out into the Californian air. It’s crisp and Dream drinks it in gratefully. The rental car is a little while away, and he watches the people around them. A woman with her two sons hurries by, talking loudly on the phone. A teenager with dyed green hair and very sharp eyeliner leans and smokes against a pillar. They wink when Dream catches their eye.

“Here,” George mumbles into his shoulder. “I can drive?”

Dream snorts. “No, you’d fall asleep and get into a crash and then we’d both die. Gimme the keys.”

George hands them over and then collapses into the passenger seat, pulling his knees up and pressing his cheek to them. The car starts smoothly and Dream backs out of the parking lot.

<<<->>>

The drive to the hotel they’re all staying at is only twelve minutes but Dream keeps getting distracted by George. He’s so warm when he’s tired, so soft and needy. The way the streetlights reflect and spin in his bleary eyes is also not helping.

The receptionist gives him his room card without even batting an eye. He’s probably had to handle much more famous people tonight anyway.

George flops onto the couch in the hotel room as Dream pads around, exploring. He’s always liked this part of traveling, the pristine and copy-cat hotel rooms. The brown and green color pallet and the scratchy worn thin carpet.

Dream sets his suitcase down in a closet and pokes George. “What are you doing?”

“Sleeping.”

“Go to your hotel room then.” 

“Nooo, it's too far!” He whines, burying his face closer into the leather cushion.

“It’s literally next door.”

“I’m tired! Lemme stay here,”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Dream sighs and give up trying to persuade him. He grabs his toothbrush and decides to wash off the travel-funk in the morning.

Stripping down to his boxers and crawling into bed, he whispers a good night to George and gets what probably isn’t a coherent word in response.


	2. Everything I'm saying abt Dream is true

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: All im writing about ADHD, depression, or anxiety is from my own experiences. I do not speak for the entire community, and I do not claim to know exactly how Dream and George are affected by them. I'm just trying to portray them as correctly as I can.

Dream wakes around midday with George snoring on his neck. It definitely isn’t what he expected.

“George?” Dream grumbles, wigging. He’s on his stomach, head pillowed on his arms with Georges top half splayed across his back on top of the covers, head tucked in between his exposed shoulder blades. Dream lifts his head and reaches behind himself to poke half-heartedly at him.

He pulls his head up and blows on the back of his neck. “Shut up.”

“I thought you were sleeping on the couch?”

“It’s small, and cold.”

“So you decided to sleep on top of me?”

George sits up and crosses his legs, running a hand through his hair. Just woken up George is a very good George in Dreams opinion.

“You’re surprisingly cushy.” He presses a palm into the meat of Dreams back. “Do you, uh, work out?” 

Dream snorts, flipping onto his back and pulling the covers to his chin. “A little bit, helps my anxiety.”

George zones out for a second and then goes red, blinking hard and hopping off the bed. “What time is it anyway?”

“I dunno,” He sits up in the bed, letting the sheets pool at his waist. “Almost one.”

George is on the other side of the room, very stoically not looking at Dream.

“George? Hello?” George’s eyes flicker closer to Dream, landing somewhere over his right shoulder. 

“Yeah?” He says, pulling at the hem of his shirt.

“What's the plan for today?” He asks, hopping off the bed and leaning down to grab clean clothes.

George almost spontaneously combusts, Dream wasn’t aware a person could get that red. 

“Uhm, we’re gonna meet with Sap and just walk around?” He squeaks.

“You asking me?” Dream says, clutching his clothes to his chest.

“No, uh, we’re gonna walk around with Sapnap.” George makes up his mind, rubbing a hand down his face and _finally_ looking at Dream. Dream decides not to mention it.

“Aight, pog, you wanna go to your room and get cleaned up and then we can go?”

“Y-yeah, reconvene in about an hour?”

Dream nods and George exits quickly, leaving him to his thoughts. He’s glad George already knew what he looks like and his unfailing ability to be as comfortable with them in person as they are online. 

Dream had sent him a selfie for the first time in the middle of George streaming. They were joking around about meeting up and George was complaining that _’I won’t even know your face at the airport, Dream!’_ Dream, getting fed up with his friends whining, warned him about what he’ll do if he didn’t stop. George had just rolled his eyes and smirked, so Dream had grabbed his phone and opened Snapchat, pointing the camera at his face and puckering his lips. George had nearly dropped his phone when he opened it, screeching and flailing his arms. 

His thoughts drift to the fic stored on his phone as he strips and hops in the crappy hotel shower. What would the harm be in reading the second chapter? He’s fairly sure the hook that stabs at his lungs is stored far enough away. George being so close to him had a part of that.

Waking up with George so close at hand reminded him just how starved for human contact he is. Of course, he has real life friends back in Florida, but they aren't very touchy-feely. Mica is the best out of them, but that only really extends to sitting close to him when they watch movies and slinging their arm over his shoulder when they walk. Maybe Dream just needs to get laid.

Whatever, his hand’s good enough for that anyway. He finishes up with his shower and towels off his hair, watching himself in the mirror. He doesn’t mind his body, it's good for taking him place to place and playing video games and lifting at the gym, but it’s not particularly noteworthy. He skims a hand over his flat stomach and pulls at the ring in his lip with his tongue.

Teeth brushed and deodorant applied, he flops down onto the bed and pulls out his phone, opening the fic. He devours the next chapter, almost embarrassed at how much he enjoys it. They’re eleven now, dealing with shitty parents and going into middle school. There’s no romance yet, obviously, but Dream’s devoted all the same. God, he wishes he knew George since they were 9. It would have made such a difference for him, having someone so stubbornly at his side. 

It would probably be easy to fall for George.

Dream is just starting the third chapter when the timer he had set for an hour goes off. He does that a lot, setting timers for things. It helps him keep track. 

Sighing and closing his phone, he grabs his wallet and leaves the room.

<<<->>>

He meets his friends at the little cafe attached to the hotel. Sapnap is drinking tea and bickering with George about it.

“Sugar is obviously-”

“No! Tea with honey is so much better, you don’t even know-”

Dream drags up a chair and flops down into it, leaning his elbows on the table and looking between his two friends.

“I’ve walked into some heated discourse, I see.”

“You did!” George scoffs, “Fucking Pandas over here thinks that tea is better with sugar then honey.”

“I don’t even like tea.” Dream deadpans, sitting back up and walking over to the counter. He orders the biggest cold brew they have and absolutely fills it with cream and sugar. 

Returning to the table, he sets down the plastic cup. “What’s the plan for today?”

Sapnap scoffs and sips his tea. “I dunno, figured we would walk around, parks and shops and stuff, see what we can get into.”

“Sounds good to me. George?”

“Yeah, I’m not driving though.”

<<<->>>

Dream and George raced each other across the parking lot to the sounds of Sapnap calling them both irresponsible children with no heat in his voice.

George threw himself against the passenger side door and yanked at the handle, crying triumphantly as he won the race to shotgun. Dream pounded on the window and flipped him off.

Sapnap sighed as he walked up to the car and Dream laughed, smushing his face against the glass.

“God, get in the car already. You are a grown man.” 

Dream flipped him off too but did as told, sliding into the middle of the back seat.

“All right boys, where are we going?” Sapnap asks, backing out of the parking spot.

“Hmm, there's an area of shops and a park about twenty minutes from here?” George offers, tapping on his phone.

Dream reaches over the center console and snatches his phone out of his hands.

“Your nails are painted! I didn’t notice.” George remarks, grabbing his hand and twisting it so he could look at his yellow painted nails.

“Ow, let go of me!”

George snorts and lets go, smacking his hand for good measure.

“Bratty,” Dream mumbles.

“Don’t pretend you’re not into it.” Sapnap smirks. Okay, Dream _is_ , but it’s not like he’s gonna admit it.

“Shut up, Snapmap.” Sapnap cries indignantly. “Anyway, is there anywhere to eat around here? I’m starving.”

“You’re the one with my phone, stupid, you check.”

Groaning and pretending to be incredibly inconvenienced, Dream looks for restaurants close by.

“What do you guys think about Pho?”

“Noodles? Yes.” Sapnap affirms, clicking on his blinker.

“Only if they have boba tea.”

“Isn’t that like, sacrilege?” Dream says, looking at their menu. “You won’t even drink iced tea.”

“Yeah, but boba is from a different culture so it's fine.” George amends, turning around to look at Dream.

“Iced tea is american though, doesn’t that mean it’s a different culture?”

“No, Americans don’t have culture.” He rolls his eyes.

“Amen!” Sapnap laughs.

“Ugh, they have it though.” Dream says, flipping the phone around to show George the list of different flavors.

“Yessss.” George whispers, pumping his fist and taking back his phone.

<<<->>>

The Vietnamese restaurant is small and warm, a big window takes up most of the back wall so you can see into the kitchen. They all crowd together in a dark wood booth, skimming through the menu.

Dream likes restaurants, he likes people watching and trying new food. This place in particular smells like cooking rice and broth. The booth’s cushions are ripping and someone had tried to fix it with duct tape. He picks at it.

“Why do pho places always have boba? Like, they aren’t even from the same culture.” Sapnap inquires.

“Is bubble tea even from one culture? I think it's a decently new thing.” Dream asks, flipping to the drinks. “Also, would it be socially acceptable to get alcohol at this hour?”

“It would be, if we didn’t wake up an hour and a half ago. I dunno anything about bubble tea, not my area of expertise.” George says, “I’m just gonna get the chicken pho, what about you guys?”

Dream gets the beef pho and Sapnap gets a crispy noodle dish that ends up being a bunch of seared vegetables piled on oil fried noodles, all doused in a thick sweet-and-sour sauce. George also gets an electric pink boba tea and complains loudly when Dream keeps stealing sips.

“You know he’s using that straw too.” Sapnap says, pausing with a forkful of noodles halfway to his mouth.

Dream glares at him and swallows his mouthful of tea and tapioca pearls. “Yeah?”

“I mean,” Sapnap continues, raising his hands. “You too are just happily sharing spit over there, that's all I’m saying.”

Realizing what he’s getting at, Dream reaches over the table to pat George's cheek. “I can’t help it if I'm homie-sexual."

George dodges his hand, blushing.

“I’m only in it for the tea, anyway.”

“I’m being used!” George gasps, pressing a palm to his chest. Dream laughs.

“Sounds like it.” Sap agrees, “Is the tea any good?” He grabs it and puts the rim of the glass up to his lips, holding the straw out of the way. “Ugh! Ew, god, it’s so sweet! I should have known when you got that coffee and put two billion sugar packets in it.”

“Hey! George is the one that ordered it, why you coming after me?” Dream complains, grabbing the offending drink back.

Sapnap looks him dead in the eyes. “I bet you like the pink drink from Starbucks.”

Dream sets the glass down with a _thunk_ back in front of George. “I cannot confirm nor deny.”

“I knew it!” George cries triumphantly, almost upending his soup bowl. “There was something about you, I just couldn’t put my finger on it-”

“What he means to say,” Sap interrupts him, “Is that _somehow_ you exude five foot four Taylor Swift twink energy, it’s quite alarming.”

“I’ll take that as a complement.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I got something wrong about the whole history of pho, Vietnamese, or boba, I'm sorry, please yell at me in the comments and I'll fix it!


	3. I actually wrote some of this on a plane to Los Angeles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter put up a fighttttttt, uh sorry abt that. Hope u like it tho!
> 
> Tw: there is a little itty bitty bit of sh in this chap, if you're not chill with that, dont read that one paragraph after Dream has a good ol gay panic moment. It doesn't add much except to illustrate what Dreams goin through, so its not necessary that you read it!! stay safe plssss

George turned the corner, shaking with silent laughter as he shoved a white dish towel into Dreams hands. He raised an eyebrow at his friend, who was doubled over clutching his stomach. The towel in question read ‘guacamole is my safeword’. Dream wheezes and smacks his friend with it.

“Look at this!” Sapnap calls from the other side of the little store. He’s holding a very strange mug-bong combination up for Dream to see.

“What is that?” He asks, wrapping the towel around George's neck and weaves through some little tables crammed with nicknacks. 

“Weed mug!” He exclaims happily. “I don’t think it would work though.”

Dream hums thoughtfully and leans around his friend to look at the wall behind him. It’s a very odd combination of weed paraphernalia and political things. There’s a small bottle of perfume that apparently smells like beer and a red hat with white embroidery that says ‘Ha! I tricked you!’

“How would you know, Sap?” George returns, rolling the rumpled towel between his hands. 

Sapnap just raises an eyebrow and grabs one of the mugs, tucking it under his arm.

The woman behind the counter coughs in their direction and scowls. Sap raises his arms in surrender and goes up to the table to buy his mug.

<<<->>>

So far, the shopping is going pretty good. They’ve almost been kicked out of every store they’ve gone into!

“Wait, so are you a stoner?” Dream asked as they walked out of the shop. They were slowly crossing into the richer side of town, and the stores were getting more and more shiny. Dream disliked all the titanium and plexiglass. It was too sterile and perfect and filled with snobby people, he wanted to muck it up.

“Eh, I was.” Sapnap shrugged. “I haven’t smoked in a while now though.”

“Makes sense.” Georges says.

Suddenly hit with a rush of affection for his friends, he hangs back and watches them bicker. Sapnap’s impulsiveness balances out George's caution and they keep each other in check. Sap gets George out of his shell and George makes sure Sap doesn’t accidentally kill himself doing something stupid. Dream’s not sure what part he plays in their dynamic. Maybe he’s the glue, maybe he feeds off the others energy and keeps everyone hyped. 

Sometimes he thinks he’s just a burden on them. He makes things awkward and stilted, a big, gangly creature with no brain-to-mouth filter. He know’s hes not really, his friends love him and they say so themselves, but every time he says something that comes off as mean-spirited and the voicechat goes quiet there’s that little voice in his head saying _maybe they’d be better without you._

Fuck, now he’s thought himself into a corner. It happens sometimes when he’s alone, or quiet, or bored. Everything piles up and even though it's just words in his head it's hard to convince himself they’re not chaining him down.

He shakes his head to try and clear it and sprints the few feet up to George and Sap, shoving his way in between them and grabbing both of them around the waist, almost sending the entire group tumbling to the ground. Sapnap is laughing in his ear and George yelps and twists around to grab his hoodie in his fist and everythings okay again.

<<<->>>

Sapnap botched the ollie and almost ran face first into a lamp post. George yelled from where he was sitting on the curb, nursing a scraped knee. Dream sighs and runs down the road to grab the skateboard, putting it under his own feet and rolling back to where he was sitting.

“You two are dangers to yourselves.” He says, laughing slightly. He plops down on the board next to George, rolling a few inches back and forth. Sapnap had bought the board on a whim and it was just a cheap thing with black and white checkers on the underside.

“Mhm.” Sap agrees, sitting down on the other side of George. “How’s your knee?”

George stretches out his leg and flexes his ankle. “It’s fine, only a little scratch.”

“I still don’t know how you didn’t see the curb there.” Dream teases, leaning back onto his elbows and looking up at the sky.

“Dream! I saw the curb, I’m just- I don’t-” He groans and flops backwards, covering his face with his arms.

“Yeah, god Dream. He’s colorblind!”

“And bad at skateboarding.” 

“See, I’m superior, but you knew that. Now will you dump George and choose me?”

“You’re superior because you’re good at skateboarding? I think I just saw you almost bash your face on that lamp over there.” George pulls his arms off his face and squints at Sapnap.

“Yeah, cause I was doing a sick trick!” He laughs. “You fell because you forgot curbs exist. We are not the same.”

George rounds on Dream. “Tell Tugboat over here that he’s not gonna win you over.”

“Wai- Tugboat?” Dream snorts.

George throws his hands up and pokes Sap in the shoulder repeatedly. “I dunno! I need more stupid names to call you when you’re being _stupid_!” 

“That does happen quite often.”

“I know!” He looks at Dream again. “Anyway, choose. Me or him?”

Dream taps his chin with a finger like he’s thinking long and hard about it. “Well, Sap’s tricks are pretty radical, but _you_ literally woke up on top of me this morning-”

“Yeah! Wait, woke up _on top_ of you? Damn, I was convinced he was a bottom.”

George reaches out and flicks his forehead. Dream laughs and stands, kicking the board up into his hand.

“C’mon! I’m drivin, first one into the passenger seat has the aux.”

He walks over to the car and watches Sapnap, who despite his previous complaining when Dream pulled the same stunt, throw himself at the car. He cheers when he makes it, and George rolls his eyes.

Sapnap offers control over the music to George because he likes the competition more than the prize, but he declines. The windows get rolled down to the wind can bite at their faces as Sapnap scrolls through Spotify.

“Ice cream?” George asks, leaning against Dream’s seat and sticking his head over his shoulder.

 _If I just turn my head, just a bit, I wouldn’t even have to take my eyes off the road, I could kiss him. His temple, cheek, it would be so easy._ Dream thinks, looking at the other man from the corner of his eye. It would be easy to play it off as a joke, and his cheek looks so soft and- What the fuck, what is he thinking? He can’t kiss George, why does he want to kiss George? Maybe he’s thinking about that fic, how this would be a good setup. Yes, that’s it, probably. Definitely.

His brain doesn’t listen. _You should. You could even grab his chin, turn his head. He’d be so soft. Look, up here. When you stop at the sign. Kiss him, you know you want to. Soft. How would he react to your tongue?_

Dream slams the breaks at the sign, jolting everyone forward. He takes one hand off the wheel and jams his blunt nails into his thigh. He wants it to burn but it doesn’t, so he pinches and twists, reviling in the sharp pain that drags him out of his spiral. George exhales sharply against his shoulder as the wind gets knocked out of him. 

“Oh! Fuck, sorry.” Dream apologizes, smoothing the crescent moons pressed into his leg with a thumb. 

“Florida man driving, god.” Sapnap bemoans. “Anyway, you didn’t answer George. Are we getting ice cream?”

“If you fuckers want it, I guess.”

“WOOHOO!” Sapnap yells, turning up the music a few notches and beginning to sing off key through the window.

“This song’s weird.” George mumbles and Dream can almost hear how he’s wrinkling his nose. The song is a pit vulgar, as much rap written by white guys tends to be, but it’s not weird per say.

“I asked if you wanted to play your music and you said no!” He defends himself. “Anyway, this song slaps.”

“It does kinda slap.” Dream agrees. 

<<<->>>

Dream orders a cone of strawberry and joins his friends outside. Earlier in the car, the conversation had fizzled out. He was glad because it let him figure out what the hell his brain was doing. And by “figure out” he meant “shove it all in a dark corner and hope it isn’t the straw that disturbs the huge pile of things he’s trying to ignore”.

George and Sap are sitting on the brick wall that sections off the little sitting area, feet dangling over a slow moving river. George is trying to steal a taste of Sapnap’s rainbow sherbet.

“If one of you falls in the river I’m not saving you.” Dream says. George turns around and beams at him, patting the wall. Something in his chest twists his windpipe into an expert pretzel knot.

He sits down anyway trying to stay a few inches away from George, but he immediately shifts and now their thighs are pressed together, electric. Their elbows bump as they eat their dessert.

“Why does George get all the Dream cuddles?” Sapnap cries indignantly, putting down his now mostly empty cup and making grabby hands at him.

“Cause I like him better?” Dream says, tilting his words up like a question.

“Cause he likes me better.” George follows.

Sapnap huffs and jumps off the wall, crossing over. He clambers back onto the concrete and tucks right into Dreams side.

George reaches over and smacks at him with his fingertips. He sticks out his tongue in retaliation and briefly pushes his face into the taller man's shoulder, making the entire group sway.

They eat the rest of their ice cream in a comfortable silence. Well, comfortable enough, Dream's stomach is in knots because George finished his ice cream and leaned on his shoulder. He can feel his eyelashes bat against his neck. It’s almost too much, and Dream knows he should pull away. Just like he knew he shouldn’t have read that fic in the first place.


	4. you literally cannot tell me this isn't 1000% correct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Dream is rlly horny here uh but i don't think its warrants a rating change. I usually use rating like this:
> 
> G = nothing sexual, mentioned or otherwise  
> T = sexual content mentioned  
> M = sexual context explicitly mentioned but not shown  
> E = sexual content is explicitly shown 
> 
> But maybe thats just me, I've read books for middle schoolers with like explicit bondage so i'm based. Anyway, have fun! I like this chap a lot :)))

The next chapter taunts him from the phone screen as he scrolls in the dark. The author promises _”confused blushy boy feelings!_ which come off as a little odd but also manages to grab Dream’s attention by the throat.

Twitter should be distracting, Discord should be distracting, hell, even putting down his fucking phone and sleeping would be better then this, but god damn his brain has other plans.

He stares holes into the brief chapter summary. _Chap 4! Our boys r 14 now and Gorg is b gay. Uh, gog pov!!_ He reads it again because scrolling to the meat of the chapter is admitting defeat. He holds himself to higher standards than this, he should not be reading gay fanfiction of his best friend after stoically ignoring the very non-platonic thoughts he had earlier. That must cross some type of line. 

Incredibly unfortunately for the working and rational part of Dreams brain, the rest of him is addled with sleep and the new knowledge on how George feels when he’s breathing across his neck. He squeezes his eyes shut like that’ll make any difference, and scrolls.

He must read three chapters that night. Bouncing from 14 to 15, dragging tired eyes across the page. Story-George is fourteen and desperately in love with Story-Dream in a quiet and soft way that fits almost-perfectly into real life George. He’s significantly less touchy than he really is because he’s terrified of what it might mean, and it twists and pulls and Dream has to remind himself that this isn’t actually how his friend works. 

Story-Dream has his first kiss at 15. It’s a girl the same age he had been dating for a little while, all dark eyes and dark humor. It's a chaste kiss because Dream likes her tons and doesn’t want to be uncomfortable. He tells George about it, telling him how soft she was under his fingers, all round edges and smooth skin. In the springy hotel bed, Dream thinks of his actual first kiss. A tipsy smashing of lips with an upperclassman when he was 16 and a half in a dark hallway. The memory tastes like peach schnapps and cigarettes.

_”She was just so, warm. I love her hips, well, no, I love the little bit of weight she has above her hips. Its so, my hands just fit so well right there and-”_

_You’re such a teenager._ Story-George had said, rolling his eyes. Story-Dream hadn’t noticed anything wrong.

Real Dream, the one stupidly reading about the man sleeping in the next room, wants to throttle him. Shake his little 9th grade shoulders and yell ‘he loves you! He’s right there and he loves you! Can’t you see?” The pile of things left untouched shudders and whines with every paragraph.

It’s nearly two in the morning when he scrolls through chapter 5 and finds a blinding lack of a ‘next chapter’ button. His reaction is immediate and embarrassing, his brow furrows and a mix of anger and disappointment bolts through him. This chapter was published three days ago, and the note at the bottom says that the next chapter is going to take a little longer than normal, whatever ‘normal’ means.

He could raid the rest of the dnf tag, it's not like that's a lower level than he’s already fallen. This is a natural stopping point though, and Vidcon kicks off tomorrow so he’d really be better off getting some sleep. And so he docks his phone and turns over in bed, burrowing his face in the pillow. He’s fighting with the sheet when his phone goes off.

It’s George, he knows that even before he turns back around. He’s the only one that has a text tone other than the default iphone _ba-ding_. 

Dream picks up his phone blindly and opens it, squinting.

>Gogy  
_ik its early i cant sleep_  
_srry if i woke u up_  
_vidcons stressing me out_

>Dream  
_im already awake_  
_u want me to come over?_  
_we can order room service_

>Gogy  
_ugh please_

Dream’s up and out of bed without a second thought, wincing at the cold air and hurrying to tug on some clothes. His bare feet pad across the dull red carpet in the halway, phone in one hand. He raps on George's door with a knuckle.

George opens the door, eyes puffy with lack of sleep, and ushers the other man inside without a word. This hotel room is the exact same as the other one, twin bed, little desk, leather loveseat. The lamp on the bedside table casts a yellow glow. Dream walks over to the desk where a pamphlet of everything available for room service sits. George follows him, floating to his side. 

He thinks this must have been the worst idea he’s had yet. What the fuck, Dream was up half the night reading about this man and now he jumped up to help him as soon as he called? He knows George is cuddly when he’s tired, knows that he reacts to their height difference that's so much more apparent when they’re close, he knows that he’s delicate now, nerves and walls worn thin with the waves of sleeplessness. And yet, fucking yet, he’s here, thumbing through a small booklet menu. 

“What do you want?” Dream whispers to George, inclining his head. The brunet hums thoughtfully. 

“Maybe, mm, pasta? Do they have pasta? I want pasta.” He mumbles, sounding like a bratty child. Dream feels him shiver against his arm, he’s just in an undershirt.

“Yeah, right here-” Dream points out a few entries while being careful not to jab him with an elbow.

“Mm, I’ll get the ravioli.” He decides, pressing himself closer to the other man's side. “I’m cold.”

Dream sighs and extracts himself from George, mindlessly pulling off his own hoodie and handing it to him. George takes it and they both stare at the navy fabric.

He almost wants to take it back, grab it and hustle back to his own room, but then George is unfurling it and slipping it over his head. He struggles with it a bit and then smoothes it down, fixing the way it sits on his shoulders.

Dream is almost knocked fucking unconscious, What the hell. His hoodie is huge on George, almost to his knees and certainly over his hands. He’s so _small_ , all pale skin and sinew. His hip would probably fit perfectly in his palm, nevermind his _wrists_. God, Dream could probably wrap one hand around both of them, pin him down. He’d be gentle unless George wanted him to be rough, callused fingers pressing down on fevered skin. Could he pick him up? Legs wrapped around his waist, a wall supporting him from the back.

Bruises, Dream never thought he would want to leave bruises but his skin is so soft, a blank page aching for ink. He would leave hickies, not on his neck though, maybe his chest or ribs, private. Tongue pressed against Georges inner thigh, teasing him, sucking a purple mark that’ll shine up at him next time he showers.  
“Dream?” George calls, waving hands partially covered in sleeves in his face. Dream snaps back to reality and issues a ‘thank you’ to whatever self-serving god there is orchestrating this entire event that he’s not hard.

“Yeah Gogy?” He says, reaching for the menu again.

“Mmm, you were spaced out. It’s okay, what are you gonna get?” George asks, flopping back onto the bed and curling up, lifting the neckline up over his nose.

“Probably the red velvet cake. Do you want a drink?”

George apparently has no clue what he does to Dream because he burrows his head into the hoodie and mumbles something that sounds like “alcohol”.

“What kind of alcohol dummy?” He asks affectionately.

“Something sweet, not fruity.” 

Dream rolls his eyes and chuckles quietly, punching in the number for the front desk into the hotel phone. He orders their food and two rum and cokes.

“Dream~” He sing-songs, sounding awfully like he’s pronouncing the name with a ‘w’ instead of a ‘r’.

“Oh my god- what do you want?” He smirks, turning back to the bed. George is sitting against the headboard, his hair is messy and the extra fabric of the hoodie is pooled at his waist. He reaches his arms out and whines.

Dream seriously has to wrestle with the fact that this is definitely turning into a kink. George just looks so small, and for some fucking reason that _does it_ for him. Sharp bolts of arousal swim in his stomach.

“Dream-” George complains. “Come here.”

He goes because he’s incredibly stupid. George curls into his side, one arm across his stomach and head in the dip of his shoulder. He fits so well, the contours of his body pressed inline with Dreams, pressed together like they were made for it. They probably were. Do you ever think about how easy it is to hold another human? Your hands fit so well against their jaw, noses slot together and legs tangle until you’re so intertwined you don’t think you’ll ever separate. 

George throws a leg over Dreams. He gasps at the sudden pressure to his crotch and then hurriedly turns it into a yawn, trying to think of the least sexy things possible. _Yes, brain, he would fit very nicely in your lap, but we’re going to think about advanced algebraic equations and the declining monarch butterfly populations now._

It works for the most part, only the low warm bubble won’t go away. Dream leans his head on top of George’s and closes his eyes, allowing himself a few seconds of soaking in his warmth.

A few minutes later someone knocks on the door. Dream disintagles himself, much to Georges dismay. He accepts the tray of food and tips the frazzled woman carrying it.

Wordlessly, he offers the bowl of ravioli up. George makes a noise and takes it, fingers brushing Dream’s. He flops back down next to him, digging a fork into the cake.

“Hrn?”

Dream looks over to where George is shaking a glass, mouth full of pasta.

“It’s a rum an coke.” 

George nods and goes back to shoveling food into his face. The chocolate cake is delicious and he finishes it quickly, quietly sipping his own beverage.

<<<->>>

He’s back in his own bed at 4 am, thinking about how lucky he is that he doesn’t have to be up for another five hours. He tosses and turns though, continuously shoving down the recent memory of George in his hoodie. Trying to ignore the thought that the other man is sleeping in it right now with only a thin wall to separate them.

It makes him feel gross. He’s _getting off_ on this for God's sake, on the difference in their height and how his own clothes emphasize it. He knows that jacking off to the thought of another person without them knowing isn’t taboo, but it crosses some arbitrary line that Dream has. Maybe it's self preservation, he wouldn't be able to face George tomorrow knowing that he thought about him with a hand down his pants.

Doesn’t mean he wants it any less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU KNOW I'M RIGHT, YOU KNOW DREAM HAS A SIZE KINK, ITS SO OBVIOUS, EVERY TIME HE MENTIONS THEIR HEIGHT DIFFERENCE. I SWEAR- I SAW ONE STREAM WHERE HE J U S T WOULDN'T STOP TALKING ABOUT IT AND THEN I WAS LIKE 'FUCK I GOTTA WRITE ABT IT NOW'. ALSO, ITS SO FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE TO WRITE SLOW BURN FOR THESE MOTHERFUCKERS, I'M TRYING TO STAY TRUE TO CHARACTER AND WHATS T R U E TO FUCKING CHARACTER IS THAT DREAMS HEAD OVER MOTHERFUCKING HEELS FOR GEORGE I TRY SO HARD BUT THEN I TRY TO WRITE DREAM NOT IN LOVE WITH GOGY AND MY BRAIN REVOLTS THERES _NO WAY_ TO DO IT


	5. Vidcon part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this on a plane back from LA B)
> 
> The next updates may be a little more sporadic bc I'm gonna b working on smth new! Y'all who hmu on discord know what I'm talking about *wink wink*

Standing in the Starbucks line in between a mom and her son and a group of teenage girls, Dream considers getting a pink drink just to spite Sapnap. He weighs the pros and cons, making his friends laugh versus his caffeine craving. Also, he is on his way to Vidcon and he’s sure that him caring around a drink more fit for his straight simps would create memes. 

He walks up to the counter and smiles at the barista. “One large pink drink and… the smallest coffee with the most caffeine you guys have.”

The barista doesn’t look weirded out at all by his strange request and punches something into the screen, waving a hand at the card swipe when it beeps.

Dream ends up with a tiny paper cup of what seems to be pure espresso. He downs it like a shot and then tosses the cup without even leaving the store. That seems to amuse the barista. As he leaves the store, he sips the strawberry concoction in his hand. It tastes like artificial creamer, berry flavoring and roses. It's also weirdly grainy? Anyway, it's terrible and Dream loves it.

He happily plows through the streets of LA, people watching as he goes. There’s cosplayers upon cosplayers, some of them look like they spent thousands of dollars on it. The smp, obviously, but also, Dream notes happily, Hermitcraft. He finds himself a few times, the most basic being a lime green hoodie and a paper plate mask, and the most complicated came with fake blood, netherite armor, and a sling full of potion bottles and arrows. Techno is definitely the most popular, easily distinguishable by the stark red cape. Ranboo appears quite a few times too, in both enderman-smp and human-irl.

Speaking of Ranboo, that's the approach him and Techno were going to take today. In Dreams backpack there was a green mask embroidered with his little blob icon and a pair of dark aviators. He was going to enter through the main entrance and then duck into a maintenance hallway, find an employee bathroom, change into black jeans, green hood and aforementioned mask, and then walk through the walls into the private room for everyone in the smp. It seemed like the best approach, and also the three faceless men wanted to mingle with the crowd a bit beforehand, taste the energy and revel in the ability to be anonymous. 

Dream doesn’t get stopped or even looked at twice as he weaves through the crowd, he’s just another person here to see other people more famous than him. He wants to talk to people, especially to get pictures with the cosplayers, but he’s a bit anxious that his voice will get him recognized. He does literally have simps because of it.

Ducking into the entrance, he quickly flashes his d-smp pass (there’s so many of them and they do get their own accommodations so it was kind of necessary to have separate identification) to a lady behind a desk and then gets ushered through and pointed to a _employees only_ marked door.

Hurring down a dusty hallway, Dream slings down his backpack and ruffles through it, pulling out his change of clothes and pushing the bathroom open with a shoulder. He changes in the dim bathroom and slips on the mask, squinting at himself in the dirty mirror.

<<<->>>

He throws open the door and enters the packed room, arms wide. Everyone is sitting around, raiding the table of snacks, or roaming around. Techno, Tommy, Tubbo, and George are all sitting around a small round table, Ranboo and Phil standing and talking animatedly behind them. Ranboo is wearing his signature mask and raybans, and Techno is wearing a pink mask with a pig snout and a square pair of clear frameless glasses. 

Tubbo sees Dream enter first and grins, waving a hand and pointing to an empty stool. Techno offers a loose salute and Tommy flips him off.

“Dream! Over here!” George calls. He walks quickly over and ends up behind the two teens, reaching out hands and ruffling their hair.

“Hey big men!” He laughs over Tommys cursing.

“Hi Dream!” Tubbo greets him, batting away his hand.

He lets go of the boys and sits down in his own chair. Everyone resumes their conversations and Dream listens in. Ranboo and Phil are talking excitedly about roleplay and their next plot event, Techno, Tubbo, and George are all yelling over each other in a weird mishmash that makes sense to them at least.

“Is that a pink drink?” Tommy asks, leaning right over Tubbos lap and practically into Dreams. 

“Yeah-” He starts as Tommy grabs it and straightens up, popping off the lid and gulping a bunch down. 

“You guys didn’t leave me a seat?” Sapnap complains, leaning on the table.

“There wasn’t any room, and we all hate you anyway.” Techno deadpans.

“Ugh, rude. George, scoot over.” He pokes George in the side, earning a glare in response.

“This is a stool you dunce.”

Sap rolls his eyes and sits himself right in George's lap, drawing a startled breath out of him. Ranboo cups two gloved palms around his mouth and stage whispers _gayyyyy_ goodnaturedly, loud enough to draw a few laughs from the crowd around them.

Irrationally, Dream feels jealousy bloom in his lungs. It was a joke, he had almost immediately left George’s lap after getting smacked, and this happens all the time. It’s not like he has any stake on George or like he wants to control his body ( _ew_ ), more like he regrets not pulling a stunt like that when he entered. He could have been the one close to George. If he’d thought of it, he could have pushed George off his stool, stolen it, and then dragged the smaller man into his lap. You know, just to test out the theory he had yesterday. 

But he didn’t so now here he is, legs crossed on his own seat in between Techno and Tommy. Sapnap drags a stool over, feet screeching on the tile and everyone's attention shifts to a well dressed man in the doorway.

He taps a pen on a clipboard a few times and then clears his throat. “Alright guys, the first panel for sbi starts in twenty, followed after that we have d-team. There’s three more panels for today and those are posted over there-'' He flicks a thumb behind himself at a corkboard. “There’s a stand set up in the main hall for everyone in the smp for one on one fanmeetings, photos, all that jazz. If you brought merch, give it to one of the staff and they’ll set it up there too. If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask.”

A smile stretches Dream’s cheeks below the mask. Everything is just starting to roll. Tommy jumps up and gives back Dream’s Starbucks, cuffing Tubbo on the head and dragging a disgruntled Techno by the sleeve over to where Wilber and Phil are clumping by the door. Ranboo and Tubbo wander off to the board where the schedule is and Sapnap is standing in the middle of the walkway with the stool he prematurely dragged over. He kicks it and it skids a few inches to the left.

“You guys ready for our panel?” Georges asks, swinging his feet where they hover a inch or two above the linoleum. Shit, he doesn’t even reach the ground. A few minutes pass in a comfortable silence before Sapnap pipes up.

“Mhm, it should be fun! Are _you two_ ready though?” He teases, jumping up into the abandoned stool in between Dream and George. “We’re going to get tons of dreamnotfound questions, especially with this being you guys's first time meeting in person.”

Dream rolls his eyes. “I’m fine with it, if we get any personal questions we don’t have to answer if we don’t want to. What about you Gogy?”

He shrugs. “Me too, I’m completely good with it, said it before. Everyone's real respectful most of the time too.” 

Sap smiles. “Good, and yeah don’t answer anything you’re uncomfy with, you deserve privacy too. I love you guys, okey?”

“Love you too, Tugboat.” George says. Dream wheezes, leaning forward onto his knees.

“Yeah, love ya.” He manages when he gets his wits together. On a large tv in one corner the Sleepy Bois are entering the stage a few minutes early, waving to the packed seats.

They watch their friends panel quietly. There's a few general questions, Tommy gets to rant about the disks and offers insight into his character and Techno is asked to explain what exactly the voices are. Wilber plays his guitar and talks about his new song, complaining about how difficult songwriting is. Phil ends up with an intricate green construction-paper crown that says Dadza across the front in gold puffy paint. The hour they had allotted speeds by in a flash, and now it's almost their turn.

<<<->>>

Dream decides to bring his drink onto stage. It’s half empty thanks to Tommy, but the message still gets across. Sapnap had noticed after a bit, announcing a satisfied _’I knew it!’_ to the room. 

As they exit the stage, Tubbo immediately latches back on to Tommy. There is a reason that together they’re dubbed ‘clingy duo.’ They’ll have a panel together later.

George walks up behind Dream and he expects him to press into his back. It doesn’t happen though, he ghosts by and ends up a few inches to Dreams left.

He leans in and whispers, “Sorry about last night.”

Startled, Dream cuts a confused look in his direction. “What?”

“I mean, I woke you up in the middle of the night and made you buy me food and then _cuddle_ me. That’s kinda, heh, weird I guess.” He shifts and rubs the back of his neck with a palm.

“Oh! Uh, it’s okay. I think the food was charged to your room and I was awake anyway.” Dream wets his lips, tasting fabric.

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn’t have to let me lean on you just because I’m nervous for something I’ve done before. I was really weird and needy and also stole your hoodie.”

_Wikihow to explain to your best friend of years that you don’t mind it when he’s needy (you actually like it quite a lot, but don’t tell him that) and that he can and should most definitely keep that hoodie because that’s your kink apparently. Also, can he please stop being so hard on himself._ Dream thinks half hysterically. 

“Georgie, seriously, it’s okay. I’ll eat cake at midnight with you anytime you need it. Also we’ve been friends forever, I’m not judging you, It’s perfectly fine that you were anxious about Vidcon. Don’t be that hard on yourself.” He says, laying a hand on the other man's shoulder and pushing a little bit.

Over by the door to the stage, the man from before waves at them, snapping his fingers. He catches Dream’s eye and mouths: _you’re on_.

Dream glaces again at George and squeezes his shoulder. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, walking out from under the hand and over to the man and Sapnap. Hoping that he takes his words to heart, Dream follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this how vidcon works?? I don't fucking know


	6. Vidcon part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took longer than normal to get out, it is like 3k so I hope that makes up for it.

Sapnap runs onto the stage first. Backed by loud applause, he practically bounces and waves, blowing kisses to his fans. 

When they were waiting at the door, George had grabbed onto the end of Dream’s sleeve anxiously, looking for comfort. Dream had given it to him, leaning down to press his nose into his hair and give him a smile.

Apparently though he had forgotten that he was still holding onto Dream so when he walked through the double doors onto the panel, he totes Dream along with him. The crowd collectively losing their fucking minds. Cameras flash and they’re all aware this is going to be all over the internet even before they sit down.

Dream throws up his unoccupied hand in a ‘can you believe this!’ gesture, shoulders shaking with barley restrained laughter. George doesn’t drop his sleeve until they sit down, though his body is tense and face flushed. He isn’t sure if it's from embarrassment or anxiety. 

The moderator comes out onto the stage and waves to quiet the crowd. She beams, waiting for the yelling and applause to cease.

In that thirty seconds before they start the program, Dream assesses George. The other man is awfully anxious, pulling at his jeans and biting his lip. Sweat beads slightly at his hairline. Dream, antsy to help him in some way, reaches over and tangles his hand with the one fidgeting, slotting their fingers together and feeling the rub of their palms. He catches Georges surprised look and squeezes, ignoring the stupid butterflies in his chest from such a simple move. 

“Alright! Quiet down, quiet down. Hello! Welcome to the Dream Team panel! Same sort of setup as the Sad Bois Inc panel, I’ll ask a few questions and then we’ll go to the audience, okay?” 

The crowd cheers and George seems to settle himself, rubbing and thumb over Dream’s knuckles and then letting go, grinning and waving.

“Yeesh, okay.” The moderator says, smiling and messing with a few index cards in her manicured hands. “First question, tell us a little bit about the smp! How it started, how it’s going, and trivia, stuff like that.”

“Heh, well.” Dream starts, leaning a bit into the microphone mounted on the desk. “When I started it with these two, I never expected it to get this big. How could I have known? I was playing Minecraft with two of my good friends and then suddenly I’m starting wars and getting sent to prison. But you know, I’m so happy this happened, I’ve helped so many small creators grow and met amazing people. 2020 was really the best year of my life.”

“Yeah!” Sapnap jumps in. “It really was so cool how quickly we got this popular. I mean, I knew it was going to happen with me, how could anyone ignore me? I’m gorgeous! George here, on the other hand-”

“Hey! Don’t be mean to Gogy, he’s beautiful.” Dream jokes, glaring at Sapnap. The audience seems to agree.

He rolls his eyes. “To you maybe.”

George leans close to the mic and cups his hands around it. “I’m being fought over.”

“Didn’t Sap just call you ugly?”

“That's just how he expresses his affection for me. Anyway, back to the smp. I know I haven’t really been in the plot. I just- heh- I don’t really like to roleplay. I think I’d be bad at it.”

“You’d be fine!” Dream says and then leans across the desk like he has a big secret to tell the crowd. He points at George with his thumb. “He just has something against king and knight aus. Dunno why, it’d be hot. He could- You know that thing where the villain like lifts the protagonist's chin with a sword or something? Think of the fan arts, George!” He sits back down and almost upends his drink.

“Oh my god, stop. Stop! You're in prison now, it’s not gonna happen! Speaking of that, favor from Techno?” George laughs and changes the subject again.

Dream raises an eyebrow above his aviators. George has read the script, so his question must be for the benefit of the fans. “I’m not telling. You guys are just going to have to watch the streams.”

“That prison’s so cool though, took forever to build. So much redstone.” Sapnap laments.

Dream snorts. “You didn’t even help with it.”

“I was there in spirit.”

The moderator laughs and presses a button which makes a little chime noise. “Next question. What was it like meeting up for the first time?”

“Sapnap was right, Dream is really fucking tall.” George laughs. Even sitting, Dream does have to look down a bit at him.

“I know! He’s a fucking giant.”

Dream rolls his eyes and takes a swig of his drink. “I’m not _that_ tall.”

Sapnap jumps out of his chair and stands in the middle of the stage. “Come on George! Dream, stand in the middle of us.”

George and Dream go with much complaining. He knows how it's going to go when he moves to stand next to the other men. It’s going to highlight their height difference more and then he’s going to think about it for the rest of the day. 

Sap comes to his chin and George to his shoulder. They laugh and stand there for a bit, pushing each other around as cameras flash.

<<<->>>

They go through a few more moderated questions and then it’s sent to the audience. People hurry to stand up and queue behind a mic. Three generic questions go by before there’s the first dreamnotfound mention.

It's a Sapnap cosplayer. They saunter up to the mic and grab it in one bandaged hand, leaning forward and looking at the men on the stage one at a time. “Dnf?”

Dream slams a palm down on the table with a _smack_ , making people jump. “Yes.”

The cosplayer looks amused. “Elaborate.”

Sometimes Dream regrets his next move. He’s not sure exactly why, it’s not like it was negative in any way. It wasn’t even impulsive really, with how much he’s been thinking about it.

He twists in his chair, faces George, and leans forward to press a fabric kiss to his cheek. Hold it for a few seconds because _god_ he’s so close and warm and his cheek is probably soft like he shaved this morning and Dream wants this all over Twitter.

“YOOOOOOOO!” Sapnap yells over the crowd. Dream pulls away and watches closely for George's reaction.

He immediately turns to him. George is beaming though he looks confused. Three tense seconds pass as the audience screams and they search each other's faces. 

Slowly, George reaches out and grabs Dream's chin, turning his head forward and leaning in to reciprocate the kiss. Dry lips against his masked cheek, nothing but a light pressure.

It barely counts, in fact, it doesn’t even count at all. There was no skin-to-skin contact and now Dream irrationally wishes he has already done his face reveal so he would know how Georges cheek feels against dry lips.

“YOOOOOOOO!” Sapnap screams again, somehow even louder. Dream’s a bit worried about how he’s taking this. He knows that he will be accepting of whatever they choose to be, but he doesn’t want him to jump to conclusions before they’ve been made.

George lets go of Dream's face and sits back down in his chair. Dream leans into the microphone again. “Yes.”

The poor cosplayer still only looks mildly surprised. “You gonna give us any more than that?”

“Nope.” He says popping the ‘p’. “In fact, we’re not gonna answer any other dnf questions, if you ask one you’ll be skipped.”

The crowd mumbles. Dream glances at his friends, lucky that they’ve gotten used to going along blindly with his plans. It was self preservation, the fact that he doesn’t even know where they stand or how to navigate questions after they’ve heavily implied that there is a relationship here. His stomach boils and he doesn’t know why because nothing went wrong so there's no fucking reason anxiety should be crawling up his throat. He wants to chicken out, flip up his hood and run through the crowd and ignore his friends until his flight leaves. 

George, sweet, stupid, empathetic George reaches out under the tablecloth and grabs Dreams hand. Dream doesn’t know how he always _knows_ when he’s bad. He fucking loves him for it but now it’s too much. Unpleasant energy whips up from their connecting fingers and zaps his chest, constricting his lungs and making his heart beat erratically. He squeezes twice and pulls his hand away, setting them both on the table.

Breath deep, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Fill your lungs until they hurt. Sleeves keep his nails from digging in too deep.

The moderator claps her hands. “You heard the man! No more dnf questions. Next person please.”

<<<->>>

When the panel ends Dream leaves quickly. He’s sweating under the mask as he slams the bathroom door. He needs it off, wants it off, everything is too tight and the air in this room is too thick and even though the water from the tap tastes like copper he drinks it down, dribbling across his cheek as he leans over the basin.

The room stops spinning as he rubs a hand over his face. He has to leave the bathroom. He knows that if he went to his friends right now and said he couldn’t possibly interact with more people who idolize and look up to him they would understand. A large portion of his fans would understand, they deal with mental health issues too. But he can’t, he doesn’t _want_ to. He’ll be okay, only a few more hours and then he can get back to his hotel room and get what’s going on straight in his head.

He walks out of the bathroom and toes the door closed. People are watching him without really watching him. Eret catches his eye and winks, Q wiggles his eyebrows at him and Niki offers a small, warm smile.

“Dream!” George calls from across the room. He walks over to the group, their little pod along with Tubbo and Ranboo.

“We’re going to go over to the stand they had set up, you wanna come?” Ranboo asks, pulling back on his gloves. 

“Oh yeah, I’ll tag along.” The only thing worse than talking to his supporters right now would be sitting in a room with all his friends.

They head out, Sapnap leading their little procession around back halls. Dream hangs back and watches, pretending like he doesn’t see it when George glances over his shoulder at him.

The door spits them out behind a cardboard wall and then into their stand. There’s already about a dozen people milling around the area they have, but when they emerge and take their places behind the table about a thousand more materialize out of the walls or something. They skuffle into what could be an attempt at a queue in front of all the creators. 

Dream steels himself and clicks open a sharpie from a mesh cup. He offers a little wave to the teen boy standing in front of him.

“Hey! It's great to meet you.”

The boy beams, flicking black hair from his eyes. “Oh my god, I didn’t think you were going to be here, I know you said it and all but, hah, ‘all men do is lie’, you know?” He splays his hands and then stills like he just remembered something. “If you’re doing autographs, uh, could you sign my phone case?”

“Yeah, of course.” Dream takes the kids phone case and scribbles ‘dream’ onto it, complete with a smiley face. “Tell me, what makes you a fan?”

 _Maybe this won’t be too bad_ Dream thinks as the kid launches into a breathless triad about all his favorite clips.

“And that one with the boat?! What the hell it was so good- oh I’ve been rambling, I should stop, I wanted to get into Tubbos line and now it's doubled in size, and you also have a line, with people waiting. Okay, I’m gonna go, thank you so much!” And he’s gone.

Dream laughs and calls after him. “Bye!”

The next person is a younger girl holding a notebook. She smiles tentatively and sticks her fingers in the spiral of her book.

“Hi! Uhm, hi, wow it’s so cool to see you in person. I’ve been,” She laughs a bit, exposing pink rubber-banded braces. “A fan for so long, not from like _before_ you blew up but maybe from right as you started to? Yeah, I think so. And you guys have helped me through so much, I don’t mean to over share but I had a terrible breakup with my girlfriend and I kinda used y’all to cope. And I draw!”

Dream’s starting to enjoy himself. He feels a bit stupid for reacting like he did now.

“That’s what’s in this book!” She wiggles it a bit. “I’m pretty proud of it, and you could see some of them if you want. I also made one for you? If you’re accepting gifts.”

“Oh dude of course! Let me see, I bet they’re great.” She slides the book over to him. “I’m so glad we could help you through a hard time in your life. It always makes me feel good about what I do when I know it’s helping people.”

He opens the cover of the book. On the first page there’s a few sketches of blob versions of most people on the smp. The second page boasts a colored pencil drawing of that one scene in the blown up community house. It’s done very well and it’s obvious this girl has talent. Dream is about to turn the page when she yelps and slams her hand down on the work.

“Wait! Wait, wait wait- I’m so sorry, I didn’t think this through- I- uhm, here I don’t wanna hold people up, do you want to see the work I made for you?”

Bemused and highly curious, Dream relents, releasing her book. She grabs it back and opens a folder at the back, pulling out a thick sheet of paper. When it’s passed over, Dream sees that it’s a drawing of him, George, and Sapnap. It’s of a phone open to a selfie, Dream’s in the middle, one hand in each of his companions' hair, Sapnap is grinning and flipping the camera off, and George is giving Dream bunny ears with his free hand, using his other one to presumably take the photo.

“Holy _fuck_ , this is so good.” Dream breathes. The girl giggles. “You want me to have this?”

“Yes! I made it for you!”

“Okay, wow you’re so talented. Can I sign your sketchbook?”

She nods enthusiastically and so Dream does, a little mark in the bottom corner.

<<<->>>

Back at the hotel late that night, Dream explores the rest of the dnf tag. He shouldn’t, what he should be doing is talking to George about what happened during Vidcon and not reading a 20k cafe au. But you know, maybe it’ll help?

What is he going to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehe this fic probably won't be much longer, 3 more chapters at the most, don't worry though I have smth good in store B)


	7. WOO!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEEEEEE lets gooooooooo!!!!!
> 
> Love this chap
> 
> tw: f-slur used angrily by a gay person against themselves

Day two of Vidcon. Dream woke up late and if you asked he would say it was an accident. He was supposed to walk with George and Sap, but if he made them wait for him they would have all shown up late, so he waved them away and hurried to get ready. 

He hops out of the taxi and snaps the mask onto his face, sprinting through the creators entrance and skidding around back halls to the room. Luckly, he doesn’t have a panel for about an hour.

“Where’s everyone?” Dream asks as he sits next to Bad. Only Schlatt, Skeppy and Fundy are also in the room.

“Hmm, there’s a few panels going on and some people are at the stand.” He answers, tapping on his phone. 

Dream hums thoughtfully, fidgeting with his watch. 

“George is at a panel right now, if that was what you were really asking.”

He startles slightly. “Wha- no I just wanted-”

Bad laughs. “Dream, it’s fine. With that stunt you two pulled yesterday I supposed you might want to talk with him.”

“Uhm, yeah.” 

He smiles knowingly and goes back to messing with his phone. Dream is just about to get up and head to the stand when the door to the stage opens and people flood though.

Dream freezes as George hurries through, talking animatedly to Quackity. As soon as they make eye contact he stops, lips pressing into a sour line. He ends his conversation and beelines to where Dream is sitting.

“We need to talk.” He says, glaring down at the masked man.

“Oh, okay.” He agrees, and follows George as he spins on his heel and stomps through the employee entrance.

Dream is losing his mind. What’s wrong? This must be about yesterday but why? He seemed fine, when it happened and the aftermath. Is he going to tell Dream that they need to stop? Stop flirting and teasing, or maybe stop entirely. If George decides they need to cut all ties with Dream would go along with it. God, of course he would, If that’s what George wanted. It doesn’t matter if it hurts because his pain wouldn’t matter if George was happier. If George is happier without him then so be it.

They twist around halls as Dream tries to figure out how to stand two more days around a man who doesn’t want him. Maybe he should just leave, see LA some more and maybe get fucking drunk. If they aren't a unit anymore than why would they try and pretend. A messy fucking breakup would not only tear them and Sapnap apart but probably the fandom too. What should he do about that? Fuck, fuck shit -

George turns on his heel again at the end of a hallway. His face is red and his chest is heaving and Dream can’t really tell how he’s going to burst. Both tears and yelling seem equally likely.

“You fucking bitch.” He says, voice low and controlled. “I can’t believe you.”

He starts to pace, waving his hands around and clenching them into fists. “You’ve been avoiding me! Me and Sapnap! You turned in early last night and woke up late and you have good cover stories but I know you and I know when you’re acting weird! You left me and him to deal with he fans fucking questions about yesterday. We didn’t have any clue what we we’re supposed to say because we weren't able to talk to you. I had to wiggle my way out of questions because I felt bad just saying ‘we’re not gonna answer them’ again. Yesterday that was fine! You could do that because it was a stunt, it wasn’t silencing people because people already had enough to scream about! But today? No, no way, when people try to do that people read it as homophobic! I _can’t even be_ homophobic!”

Dream takes a while to process that because George was running his hands through his hair and now it looks all mussed up and this is definitely not what he should be thinking about.

“Wait, you can’t be homophobic?”

“ _That’s_ What you land on! Okay, might as well explain. I can’t be homophobic, Dream, because I’m gay. That brings me to another point! You’re a bitch, I’ve said that before- whatever, the point still stands. But! You can’t play with me! You must know how I feel now, and you’re just messing with me. I want you! And you’re kissing my cheek on stage and flirting with me on streams and it's obvious that this is all fun and games to you. You laugh at the fanart and laugh at me and I can’t believe you would do this! I had to dodge so many people asking about what happened! I couldn’t even talk to you because you're _avoiding me_! Also, take of that fucking mask I can’t even see your face.”

Okay, so Dream has officially lost his fucking mind. He splutters for a second, wetting his lips and trying to rope in a train of thought enough to translate the mess into words. Buying time, he slowly takes off his mask and glasses and pockets them.

“You _want_ me?” He whispers horsley. George is so close now, breathing hard and mouth shining with spit from his furious words.

“Yes you fucking dumbass!” He yells, squeezing his eyes shut and fisting his hands in his hair. “I want you. I want you so much sometimes that it hurts. When you get close to me or touch me or go out of your way to be nice to me it’s like a stake through my stomach because I know it's just a game and I can’t have you. I can’t. It’s okay though, I’ve gotten used to it. God! What am I saying? I’m just a fucking fag spilling his fucking feelings out to a straight man and I need to stop- you need to stop and I can’t believe you’re playing with me and I can’t believe I don’t want you to stop.”

Dream stumbles back a step and snaps his jaw closed. “George- Okay.” He steadies himself, breathing in and making eye contact with the fuming man in front of him. “First off, don’t ever call yourself that again, second off, you are so wrong on so many levels I don’t even know where to start. I’m bi, fuck you. Also I’m not playing with you! I- I want- You honestly think that-”

Dream cuts himself off with a frustrated noise.

“It’s fine-” George starts.

“Absolutely not. You know what? You know what?” Dream sounds slightly delirious as he steps forward and backs George into the corner. He’s angry and certainly not tactful as he crowds him with his body. “You are going to shut up.”

And he leans down, cups Georges cheek in one palm and kisses him. He moves slowly, telegraphing his intention as he feels George shake with adrenaline under his hand. When he doesn’t move away and their mouths connect Dream doesn’t wait a second longer to take and give and take.

Wet lips slide against each other as Dream presses hard. The hand on his face moves into his hair and his other hand cups his waist. George responds immediately, looping arms around his neck and pushing the length of their bodies together. He opens his mouth on a gasp and Dream tilts his head to deepen the kiss. 

_Fuck,_ George is so small. Dream’s hand dwarfs his cheek as he pushes up on his tip-toes to reach his mouth. The kiss is uncoordinated and sloppy but they both desperately throw themselves into it. With the slide of their tongues and the little breathy noises George is making, Dream knows that he must cut it short before he pins George against a wall.

George whimpers slightly as Dream disconnects them. A string of spit connects their kiss-swollen mouths. 

“Oh my god.” George says, pressing his face into Dream's chest and basically hanging off him. Dream lowers them both to the concrete floor.

“Oh god.” He repeats, tilting his head to look up at Dream. “I was so wrong, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, you idiot.” He says with a slight smile. 

George buries his face into Dream's chest again. His shoulders start to shake as he curls in on himself.

Instinctively, Dream tucks him closer to his body until Georges head is in the crook of his neck. His face is wet with tears and he’s shaking with contained sobs.

“George?” Dream whispers, pressing his lips into his hair.

“I thought- I thought I would lose you. I didn’t _mean_ to say all of that, I just, I was gonna berate you for avoiding me and Sap but then I just kept talking and _talking_ and I was sure you were gonna hate me but I couldn’t _stop-_ ” He breaks off into hiccups, grabbing fistfulls of Dreams shirt. 

“No, oh, baby…” Dream says again, feeling George twist closer to him at the pet name. “I couldn't, I just couldn’t just drop you. It would destroy me. Even if I didn’t return your feelings we would have tried to figure it out because I can’t lose you. You really thought that, George?”

He nods and sits up, rubbing his face with bunched up sleeves. “Not exactly, it was the irrational side of my brain and it kinda took over and that’s all I could think. Barely got any sleep. It’s o-okay- I’ll be okay.”

Dream leans forward and presses their foreheads together. They breathe each other's air and let the adrenalin run its course. 

“Can I kiss you?” Dream asks softly, so softly that he doesn’t even know if George heard him until he presses his face forward. This time they move slowly, feather-light and gentle. Dream wraps George in his arms again and tries not to think about how well he fits.

“We should go back, they’re probably wondering where we went.” George mumbles, lips brushing the other mans with every syllable.

“We _could_ ~” Dream hums, reaching down to ruck up the back of Georges hoodie, pressing fingertips against the warm skin of his lower back.

“Dream-” George shudders and glares playfully at him, “Dream, no, we have to go.”

He extracts himself from Dreams arms and stands up, fixing his shirt and hair. Dream follows him, reaching out to wipe a strand of spit from the corner of George's mouth. He _definitely_ doesn't think about pushing his thumb past his lips and onto his tongue. Or how George would wrap his lips around the digit and blink up at him.

“What are we going to tell them?” George asks, dragging Dream away from his thoughts.

“I dunno, walk and talk? We’re pretty far away.” Dream offers.

“Hmm, kay.” George says, reaching out and grabbing Dream's hand. Their fingers lace again as they walk slowly back through the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the most angst i've ever written I never do this
> 
> if ur reading this hi dani ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Pog, anyway, hmu my discord is SallyMander#4570 pls yell at me about gay minecraft youtubers im so lonely. 
> 
> Fun fact I read Heatwaves before I watched any smp streams. 
> 
> Umm thx for reading ily <<<33


End file.
